


The Terrible Twos

by lionofsounis



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life, Toddler Shenanigans, i just want to see costis interact with the babies ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofsounis/pseuds/lionofsounis
Summary: Costis has returned to his duties as Royal Babysitter, but this time it's for actual children. The king and queen need a nap. Costis also needs a nap. Shenanigans include climbing up chimneys, drooling on everyone and everything, eating rocks, and dirty diapers.
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	The Terrible Twos

**Author's Note:**

> anyway Costis is a big overprotective sweetheart and also a big brother so i like thinking he would be good with kids and therefore the best babysitter ever. also, he's had lots of practice with Gen.

It was strangely comforting to be asked back to guard the king and queen's breakfast, Costis had thought, til he arrived there.

Their breakfasts were distinctly less rigid than they had previously been, but no more relaxed. Instead, they were chaotic. The queen was as poised and immovable as ever, but the king still lounged in his chair, alternating between eating his own breakfast and trying to give one of the squirming twins a sip of coffee. Each time he did the queen would give him a cool glance and he would smile winningly at her, often with his mouth full.

Costis was never sure if the queen missed his successful attempts or simply did not address them.

After Costis had been attending them for several weeks and the shine of being back had worn off somewhat, he slowly grew to be as appalled as ever at the king's behaviour. Occasionally he would hand one (or both) of the babies off to Costis or an attendant as unceremoniously as a sack of potatoes. He would crack jokes about switching them from coffee to wine. He would complain when they needed to be changed and when anyone offered to do it for him he'd complain they thought him incompetent. He said their clothes were ugly and announced they had inherited every single one of his negative personality traits, of which, of course, there were many.

This was not to say Costis didn't enjoy being back, or that the king was in any way a bad father. He would also often drape one of the children over his leg, bouncing them up and down while they giggled and he pretended not to be equally delighted. He would tickle their feet, play with their toes, pretend to carry on full conversations with them while they responded in babytalk, and sneak them sweets in addition to the coffee. They often fell asleep on his shoulders (which Costis, though he would never admit it to the king, found ridiculously endearing) and he didn't seem to mind at all when their tiny fists collided with his face or knocked his breakfast fork out of his hand.

The breakfasts only grew more chaotic when the twins grew a little older and began toddling around the room. Their steps were still babyish, teetering and unsteady (though Costis noticed the princess was a little more steady than the prince), and they fell down on their bottom more often than not, but they usually weren't bothered by this, and got up again laughing. Then they'd go back to refusing to eat their own breakfast and wanting to steal their father's, or pulling at their mother's skirts, or climbing up Costis’s leg, begging in their gurgling non-words to sit on his shoulders (which he always indulged, though the king always complained he was spoiling them), or, in one particularly memorable event, crawling up the chimney.

The royal family was eating indoors, as the days were growing cooler, but not quite cool enough that the servants had to light the fire yet. Hector was dangling off his father's boot, laughing happily. The king was poorly suppressing a smile and trying to complain about the Baron Susa's latest demands. The queen was listening placidly, and Costis was standing immobile by the door.

Then the queen stopped and raised a hand to her left ear.

The earring that had been there was gone, and, though her expression did not change, she glowered at the king.

"On my honour," said the king loftily, "it was not me." Naturally, nobody believed him.

The queen sniffed, then her eyes narrowed. "My king," she said, "where is our daughter?"

The king looked at her, puzzled. "The chimney," he answered, as if it should have been obvious.

Once again, the queen's expression did not change. She only blinked slowly, several times. The king popped a piece of bacon into his open mouth. Hector climbed up his leg and flopped headfirst into his father's lap.

"The chimney," the queen repeated. Every attendant and servant in the room, including Costis, swiveled their eyes between the two monarchs, then followed the queen's gaze as she turned in her chair to look behind her, where her daughter's chubby ankles and bare feet were dangling out of the chimney.

"It isn't as if there's a fire," said the king.

The queen did not deign to ask when or how or from whom Eugenia had learnt to climb up chimneys. There was no need. She turned back, pursed her lips at the king, and then looked inquiringly at Costis.

"Don't blame Costis," said the king, before she could speak. "He isn't a mind reader."

The queen raised an eyebrow.

"To be honest, My Queen," Costis explained, "I thought you knew." The king certainly had. Costis had watched his uncharacteristically dull eyes follow Eugenia across the floor, navigate her way into the soot, heave herself up and then grab onto a low, outcropping brick in the chimney column. Besides, it wasn't as if it were the first time the princess had done something outlandish at breakfast.

By this point, Hector had clambered his way up to his father's shoulder and was drooling excessively onto the king's robe. The king had to put his fork down and was trying (vainly) to wipe away some of the slobber, wrinkling his nose as he did. The Queen of Attolia sighed, then put her own utensils and down and made to stand.

A brief flash of emotion broke through her mask at that moment, and Costis realized with a jolt how tired she was. It was why she had not noticed her daughter climbing a chimney in the middle of breakfast. The king was too, it occurred to him, suddenly, and a wave of compassion swept over him. He stepped forward. "If I may, my Queen?"

The queen actually looked relieved. "Thank you, Costis."

Costis made his way over to the fireplace, trying to avoid thinking about how everyone in the room, except perhaps the queen and her drooling son, was watching him. It was too much to hope the king wasn't watching. But it wasn't the first time he had had to pull the princess (or the prince, for that matter) out from somewhere they weren't meant to be, and, while he didn't relish being watched like a bear at the circus, he wasn't overly concerned.

He poked his head into the chimney to see that the princess had wedged herself into an uncomfortable corner and was beginning to cry. He murmured a word to her in Mede -- the word for trouble, which Kamet had taken to calling her, and Costis had unconsciously adopted -- and she was surprised enough to see him that she stopped fussing. She made a baby sound which he took to mean 'get me out of here'.

The angle was awkward, and he had to hold onto the outer mantle of the fireplace with one hand while pulling Eugenia out with the other. She came willingly, though, and didn't seem to have any bumps or scrapes from her adventure, though it was a little difficult to tell under all the soot.

She was covered from head to toe in the fine grey-black dust, and Costis could feel that some of it had gotten into his hair as well. Kamet would lecture him later if he caught sight of it, and tell him to go outside and shake himself off before he entered their rooms. There was a large patch of dust on his armor too, where the princess was leaning contentedly, and he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed at her in the slightest. She waved her pudgy arms at him and he hefted her up so she could latch them around his neck, leaving a smudge of soot on his face and cooing happily as she did.

It was then he remembered the room was watching him. Most of the king's attendants looked highly unimpressed, though Costis wasn't sure if it was at him or the princess. Pheris Erondites appeared to think something was funny. The queen's attendants were mostly impassive, but for Phresine, who nodded slightly at him.

The king and queen, however, were not paying attention to him. Hector was trying to climb on top of the king's head and the king was making gagging sounds. "My gods," he said loudly to his son, finally drawing attention away from Costis, "you stink."

The attendants of the king and queen alike seemed to roll their eyes in unison. Pheris had ducked further into the background, his shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. Costis avoided looking at him lest he too should be overcome. As it was, he had to clamp his lips together to keep them from twitching.

Heaving a sigh, the king rose from the table, leaving his unfinished breakfast behind him. "By all means," he whined, "nobody offer to help your poor one-handed king change his child's diaper."

Ion, looking as if he wanted the earth to swallow him, opened his mouth, but the queen only had to look at him. He closed it again and ignored the king, who had Hector tucked under one arm, still complaining as he made his way out of the room. The baby giggled and the king made a show of being affronted by the sound, as if the child had purposely conspired to need changing in the middle of breakfast as a deliberate plot against his father.

The queen did not get to her feet immediately. Next to Costis's ear, Eugenia yawned and closed her eyes. It seemed only seconds later she was asleep on his shoulder.

"Do you know, Costis," said the queen unexpectedly. Costis blinked in surprise, but before he could reply, the queen finished her sentence; "when Eugenia was born I said she could not be more trouble than her father?"

She did not slump in her chair -- the Queen of Attolia never slumped -- but Costis thought it might be the closest she'd ever been to doing so.

"Ah," he said, understanding dawning on him. He wondered, not for the first time, what the king and queen did behind closed doors -- or more accurately, what their children did. He wondered if they had taken to throwing inkpots yet. He was sure any pair of twins would be a handful, inkpots or no, but he was sure inkpots would only exacerbate the problem. At any rate, it was abundantly clear why the king and queen were so tired.

Finally, the queen stood, and moved to take Eugenia from him. Costis had to reach up with one hand to disentangle the toddler's fist from his shoulder pauldron. As he did, something in Eugenia's hand scraped against his wrist. He frowned in puzzlement, and took the princess's hand in his before handing her back to her mother. Gently unfolding her fingers, he found the queen's missing earring lying snugly in the baby's palm.

The queen sighed faintly, just a short exhale through her nose, but left the earring where it was. "So, so, so," was all she said. Eugenia murmured as her slumber was disturbed, but she did not wake fully as she passed from hand to hand and she returned to sleep in a cloud of dust on her mother's shoulder. The queen coughed faintly.

"My Queen?" Costis asked.

"Yes?"

"Should I tell the Captain you won't be meeting with him this morning?"

The queen glanced at the doorway, as if waiting for some sign of her husband. There hadn't been a peep from him since he'd left and Costis wondered if he hadn't simply taken himself and his son back to bed, dirty diaper and all. The queen considered Costis’s question, then nodded. "Thank you, Costis," she said, for the second time that morning, and her smile sent a flood of warmth through him, as it always did.

Costis stepped back to bow, and the queen swept out of the room, regal as ever despite the soot on her gown, with her attendants trailing behind her.

***

Some days, the children spent their time mostly with the king, sometimes with the Queen. Today they were with the king, and they were in fine form. Often, lately, the king had been even more snappish than usual with his attendants, and with Costis. A few of them bristled at it, but most of them, like Costis, had figured out he had not been sleeping well and, for once, found it easy to forgive him.

Today, however, the king seemed almost too tired to snap, and almost too tired to joke, though upon seeing his son fall face first into the grass in the garden, he had laughed and said, "well, he does take after me."

This was, however, before Ion had had to help him fish a handful of rocks out of Hector's mouth, before Costis had to pull Eugenia away from the fish pond for the eighth time, and before the king returned no less than three of the attendants' missing possessions. Hector had even chewed on Pheris's notebook, much to the young attendant's chagrin. Costis's mother and father had always agreed that toddlers were the most tiring age, and when he saw the king's children he could well believe them. He could certainly understand why the king and queen seemed so exhausted.

"By all the gods," said the king, as he returned Pheris's somewhat soggy notebook to him. "If this does not teach me to think about the consequences of my actions, nothing will."

Costis, who knew the king thought through his actions very carefully most of the time, and who also knew there was little chance of the king changing anything about his behaviour, snorted. He always tried to be impassive when the king's attendants were around, but every so often he faltered.

"Are you impugning me, Costis?" the king asked, with a sniff.

"Indeed not, My King."

Eugenides eyed him suspiciously, then huffed. "The gods must be punishing me for all the grief I gave my father." He was joking, but Costis thought he detected a note of honest remorse in the king's voice. "Any moment now, Moira will appear in the clouds to tell me it serves me right."

Costis, who had once heard the voice of the gods directly order the king to go to bed, thought this was a distinct possibility, but most of the attendants seemed amused. With a start, Costis noticed Pheris, for once, was not sniggering at them, and wondered what lectures from the gods to the king the boy had overheard. He couldn't help a shudder.

Before anyone could respond, however, two things happened. Firstly, they were interrupted by a howl that split the ears of everyone present, and secondly, Teleus, accompanied by a few other guards, came round the corner.

"Gods all," groaned the king, as Costis pulled Eugenia out of a rose bush.

Teleus took in the situation: the scattered attendants, the king looking as if he hadn't slept in two weeks and wiping toddler spit onto his royal tunic, Princess Eugenia who was wailing, Prince Hector who had realized his sister was in distress and was screwing his face up to join her there, and Costis who was kneeling down to pull the thorn out of the princess's bloody palm. "Hm," he said, almost disapprovingly. Costis yanked on the thorn and Eugenia screamed louder.

The attendants winced. The king winced. The guards behind Teleus winced. Even Costis winced as Ion handed him a handkerchief and he pressed it to the toddler's tiny palm. The only person who did not wince was Teleus himself.

"Shhh," Costis said, as soothingly as he could. He smoothed Eugenia's now-tangled hair away from her face and instantly regretted it. It was sticky, for some reason. She continued to cry, though it was less ear-splitting than before. Her brother, too, calmed somewhat, and resorted to hiccupping quietly.

"Oh, hello, Teleus," said the king, as if noticing him for the first time. For once, Costis thought it might not have been an act. "As you can see, my wife and I have a very good reason for missing our meeting with you this morning."

"Indeed," said Teleus gravely, peering at the king's drawn face. There was a pause while everyone seemed to gather themselves.

"Well," said the king, after pinching the bridge of his nose for a full minute, "what would you like to discuss, O captain of the guard?"

"Nothing," said Teleus.

The king looked at him like he hadn't heard correctly. "Eh?"

"Nothing, my King. The Queen was right to postpone our meeting."

"Teleus, are you ill?" the king asked.

But Teleus stood his ground, his face impassive. "No, your majesty. But you are tired."

"Gods help me," the king muttered.

While he was thinking over what else to say, Teleus added, "My King, the guard would be honoured to keep the prince and princess safe this afternoon."

Everyone looked at Teleus as if it hadn't occurred to them that anyone other than the king or queen might watch the children. Both the king and the queen did not like knowing the children were anywhere other than at their sides. Costis wasn't sure how the attendants saw this -- perhaps as overprotectiveness -- but Costis thought it had a good deal to do with the fact that the king and queen liked to do things themselves. The king in particular, though he hated the responsibility of ruling, loved to have things his own way. Costis wondered if he saw foisting the children off on the guard for a day as a sign of weakness. It was also, of course, overprotectiveness. After all, they had lost one child already.

There was another moment of silence (punctuated only by Eugenia and Hector's sniffling), and then the king heaved a sigh, but still made Teleus no answer.

Costis, from where he knelt, ventured, "my King?"

"What is it, Costis?"

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Go to bed."

The king looked at him sharply, and all the attendants drew in a breath. Even Teleus looked surprised.

The king was not surprised, though, only briefly unsettled. Then he laughed. "Oh very well," he said finally. "Who am I to argue with the words of the gods, even if they come from mere mortals." He huffed. “Eugenia, Hector," his children looked up at him, "I'd tell you to go easy on poor Costis, but we all know you won't. Try not to drive him to an early retirement though."

The children, not understanding a word, replied with inquisitive toddler noises, but he only sighed again.

"Costis, Teleus," he said, nodding to punctuate each name, "good luck."

Then he turned and made his way back to the palace, attendants in tow.

***

The king's attendants left him alone in his bedchamber. The wiser and more experienced of them knew he did not stay there.

In the queen's chambers, he flung himself down on the bed beside her, still mostly clothed, except for his boots and his coat. "My gods," he said, ruefully.

"And where are the children?" the queen asked, curious but unconcerned.

"Teleus and Costis and the rest of the guard have volunteered to babysit for the afternoon. I should say," he amended, “Teleus volunteered Costis and the guard. I’m sure Costis knows better by now. Especially considering the chimney incident this morning.”

"You left them with Teleus?"

"And Costis. And the others." He waved his hand airily.

The queen smiled faintly.

"It doesn't mean I like Teleus," he pouted.

She smoothed his hair affectionately. "Of course not."

"It's just that I trust him not to let our children fall into a cistern or get trampled by horses for a few hours."

"Of course," the queen said again.

He opened one eye and glared at her with it. "Are you mocking me?"

"I would never," she said primly.

He snorted. Then he said, "Costis told me to go to bed."

"Costis was right to do so."

"I'm the king," he complained.

"And Costis is a younger version of Teleus," the queen remarked.

The king sat up to frown at her more fully. "What are you implying?"

The queen settled back more comfortably into the pillows. "Well, you love Costis dearly--"

He snorted, but could not deny it.

She ignored him. "--and you claim to hate Teleus. However, you also claim that Costis is a younger version of Teleus. So."

"So what?" he asked, obstinate.

"So it seems to me, either you care for Teleus more than you will admit, or you have been misleading poor Costis all this time."

The king scowled. "So, so, so," he grumbled.

The queen laughed and kissed his forehead and took him into her arms. Moments later, they were asleep.

***

Costis heaved a sigh as he entered their rooms, and Kamet looked up, a little concerned, just in time to see him heave his sword belt onto the rug and throw himself face first onto the bed.

"Costis?" he ventured carefully, after a moment.

"I'm fine," Costis said, his voice muffled by the blankets. He sighed again, even louder than the first time.

Kamet blinked, and pondered. The king must have been up to something again -- it always stressed Costis to be a part of the palace intrigue. And the king was _always_ up to something. "Costis?" he asked again. "Is it something to do with the king?"

Costis groaned, then turned his head to Kamet, though he stayed pressed into the blankets and had to scrub his face over the fabric to do it. "Isn't it always?"

"Well, yes," Kamet said, trying his best not to sound snooty, "that's why I asked. What is it this time?"

He needn't have worried about being snooty. Costis didn't seem to have heard him. He was launching into a tirade, as he did whenever the king had wound him up. "It serves me right," he complained, shaking his head. "I had to go and tell the king it wasn't very likely he'd ever have an heir and then they go and have two at once."

"You told the king _what?"_

But Costis still wasn't listening. "Just once in my life I'd like to keep my mouth shut so the gods can't make anything ironic happen to me."

As he wasn't listening anyway, Kamet thought no response beyond a sympathetic _hm_ was necessary. Sure enough, Costis continued. "I should have stayed on the farm and shoveled manure til I died of old age. You never have to pull the king's daughter out of a chimney if you've never met the king. My gods, Kamet, I've never been so tired in my life. Not when the king first promoted me, not when we walked across the entire Mede Empire, not when I had to come back to Attolia to warn them about the Mede. We are never having children." This last was said rather ominously, but Kamet had to fight to keep the smile off his face.

"We're both men," Kamet pointed out.

"Well don't get any ideas about adopting Pheris or something."

"Pheris?" Kamet couldn't help but laugh, thinking of a time, not long after they’d returned to Attolia, when Pheris had eavesdropped on a conversation between him and Costis. _Costis is nice,_ Pheris had signed to him after Kamet had berated him for intruding on people's personal lives. _You aren't._ "Costis is nice to people who are nice to me," Kamet had hissed back. Pheris had looked momentarily thoughtful, then swore emphatically he would not record any of their words in his journal.

"Gods, no. What a nightmare. But thankfully, I believe he already has parents."

Costis snorted. "Bad ones."

"And we would be more competent?"

"Competent, yes. Awake? No. Capable of moving at all, even to lift one finger? No."

Kamet let his eyes travel down Costis’s prone form. He had seen Costis bone-weary, nearly falling over with exhaustion. He did not think this was quite as bad as that. "Your boots are on the bedspread," he pointed out.

Costis looked at him balefully.

"I'm merely pointing out how bad a role model you would be," he lied.

Costis made another face at him.

"Poor Costis," said Kamet.

"Everyone always seems to be saying that," Costis huffed. "But they never want to make anything easier for poor Costis."

Kamet shook his head; he was already making his way to his Attolian’s side. He unlaced each boot carefully, eased it off his foot, and tossed it in the direction of Costis's sword.

"There," he said. "Doesn't that make things easier?"

Costis had twisted his head around to watch Kamet. Kamet wasn't sure if he was puzzled or just thinking.

"I cannot help the king's behaviour, or his children's," Kamet explained, "but I can help you be a little more comfortable. And save the bedspread."

Either Kamet was making sense, or Costis was too tired to keep arguing. In any case, he closed his eyes. Face halfway into the covers, he said, "lie down with me?"

Moving round to the more spacious side of the bed, Kamet removed his own shoes and wriggled under one of Costis’s giant arms. "Costis?" he said again, when he had settled.

There was no reply. Costis was already asleep.


End file.
